You’re still too young to understand the news, and for that a part of me is grateful. After all, there’s seldom anything on there that I even want to see. It’s all bad news, followed by more bad news, and for now I want to shelter you from all the calamity. School shootings, political unrest, racism and violence. You’re so innocently unaware of it all, and for now you’re not negatively affected by all the anger, injustice, and evil. I wish I could keep you from it forever. Just keep you my sweet, loving girl. But I can’t.

One day you’ll see, and one day you’ll know. I watch you become more aware of the world around you every day, and you’re asking questions, and more importantly contemplating my answers. You’re beginning to form your own opinions, and that’s a good thing, but you still face harsh realities ahead. While a part of me may want to keep you sheltered and protected forever, I know that’s not the way. You need to be a part of this world at large, but you don’t need to let it steal your shine. That’s the challenge.

My advice to you as you begin to notice more the trouble of this world is to abide in hope. To abide is defined as “to continue without fading,” and that’s going to be very important as you go. The fact is that there are cruel people in this world who harm others without thought. Sometimes you will see so much hate, so many heinous acts that make you break into tired tears, and you’ll wonder where all the kindness went.

I can still remember when I served Active Duty and our world was attacked by terror on 9/11. As I watched helpless people jump from a burning building to their death it was as if hope plummeted with them. My heart hurt at the evil that rose against humanity, but then the true grit of humanity rose back in resistance. Despite the atrocious events, hope prevailed. Mankind remained in hope. They abided in hope. It threatened to fade, but in the end it did not. That is what you must always do. Never let the evil of this world win and steal your hope. In this world you will have trouble, but our hope is in something greater than this world. Keep that in mind always.

Here’s the part that kinda worries your Momma, though. You are so sweet, and so kind. Never let that be taken from you! We currently live in a world that feeds on sarcasm and breathes on cynicism. Harsh words are thoughtlessly hurled, opinions are strong, and concessions are few. Sympathy is dulled and charity for the sake of doing it without recognition is rare. You definitely will experience unfair treatment, judgement, and snide comments concerning your life choices. Let them roll off your back, for sure, but don’t let them make you unfeeling. It’s a tough balance to remain sensitive in a “mean” world, yet not let callousness or cruelty change you. They say “if you can’t beat them, join them,” but my advice is to always stay true to you. Don’t allow a hard world to harden you. It’s okay to be “weak” if that means loving your fellow man. A lot of the time when you are weak by the worldly standard, you are truly strong. I think you know what I’m talking about.

But here’s the most important part, kiddo. You are the future. Some folks say “this world has gone to hell in a hand basket,” but you know I never give up hope. I don’t want you to either. Be a world-changer. In a harsh world where confused, hurting people pull out a gun in school, yeah, you need to be on guard, but never do you need to become unloving. When you do that then it really will be the end.

I need you to be the light. I need you to help the hurting. Be the one who reaches out to the quiet, rejected people. Be the one who does no harm, doesn’t judge, and gives a smile always. Watch for those hurting, those who have fallen, and reach out a helping hand. I’m not saying this will be easy, or that it will even be accepted always, but I want you to never stop trying to be a light in this darkened world. Your highest calling in life is to serve others, love others, and perhaps even change this troubled world one life at a time.

You’ve got your work cut out for you, and honestly, I’m glad that right now all you can see is the kindness and love our home offers you. I wish every child had that. Perhaps then we wouldn’t be in the boat we are. For now you’re just learning to love, but my hope is that it will be so ingrained that you’ll have no choice but for you to overflow it into others as you step out further into this troubled world on your own one day.

Visibly rattled he responded, “fine then! Let’s not do it! Let’s just keep everything how it is!”

I sighed at his obvious sarcasm. He knew I wanted this path God had given us as much as he did. I just had more trouble transversing that path. The life God was leading us to was a big change, and it was way outside my wheelhouse. That’s how I especially knew it was God.

We were being led to sell our possessions, sell our home, leave our familiar jobs, and travel across the country as a family. We desired to spend more time together focused on family and God’s will for our life and less time on the busy, demanding things that in essence didn’t matter. The Lord had shown us time and time again that this was what He had for us. That we didn’t doubt. But the uncertainties that came along the way were really hard for me!

They came easier to my husband. He was different than me. He was laid back and typically worry-free. I, on the other hand, might as well have a Masters degree in planning, with a minor in anxiety. I liked to know the answers, the steps to the answers, and perhaps some nice diagrams thrown in for good measure. If our life was a piece of unassembled furniture then I liked to read the instructions twice, my husband would wing it by looking at the picture on the box, and I would sit in the floor nervously beside him trying to read a particular portion of directions to him. To which he’d ignore.

So this change in our life was causing me major stress not knowing all the answers. Much was unknown, and a lot of the rest was leaps of faith. I felt a peace over the direction, but uncertainty still made me twitch. Kinda like how a dirty bathroom floor would do. #guilty

I realized in the midst of my argument with my spouse that I wasn’t so much lashing out at him. I was lashing out at my lack of control. I was lashing out at uncertainty, and I was frustrated that he didn’t respond to that like I did. It came down to being unable to understand why he wasn’t as stressed as me, and I realized a majority of arguments in marriage came down to that. He wasn’t like me!

My husband and I don’t argue much, but when we do it usually is rooted in a difference of opinion or reaction. They say opposites attract, and I guess that’s true in dating, but when it comes to living the rest of forever together then opposites attack. Marriage is all about realizing that your partner isn’t like you, that’s okay, and you can work with it. Most problems in marriage derive from an inability to compromise, a problem seeing the point of view of the other person, and a stoic, unwavering opinion that your way is the only right way.

In our situation I was more angry at my emotions about being anxious and worried than I was at him. I was fighting with my lack of control, not my husband. I hated not having all my ducks in a row or knowing all the answers, but I loved my husband. I even loved the fact that he was different than me. His ability to rest in chaos kept me focused also on what really mattered. He kept me balanced, I kept him challenged. We were a good team. In the midst of an argument and raised voices, it was worthwhile to keep that in mind.

Have you ever known a love that transcended time? Or have you seen a passion that persisted despite the limits placed upon it, the wreckage and roadblocks erected in its way? Have you ever glimpsed an affection that persevered despite bad breaks or broken promises, one that saw ugly truths yet kept going when it was worth it? What of a love that weaved its way like a tapestry, a story so intent on being told that it defied the odds? Are there instances when love really does conquer all? Can it move mountains, make a way, and live out its perfect destiny to completion? Can it really change hearts and bring out the absolute best in its recipients?! Some tales of love just need to be told, and those emotions will write their own book.

This is our love story.

I still remember when I first saw him. As he stood on the stage, head down strumming his strat, the long dark hair fell across his forehead. I won’t say I knew he’d be my husband one day right at that moment, but I was drawn to him. It’s like I could see inside this stranger, as if a light emitted from within him, and I knew immediately that his heart was good. I just wanted to talk to him. The thoughts of happily ever after would come later.

I still remember our first date. I remember our first kiss. We sat together on a tree branch, feet dangling as we looked down at the park path beneath us. His legs hung down longer than mine, we giggled together making fake conversations for the people who passed under us, and I tried to overcome my humiliation over my braces having gotten caught in his shirt in the movie theater earlier when I had playfully and flirting bit his shoulder. Why was I so socially awkward?! But as we shared a sweet kiss in the dark I forgot all about it. I just felt like the world had finally stopped spinning out of control.

I still remember how he made me feel normal, special, loved. He knew my upbringing, my past, and my adolescent mistakes, yet he loved me regardless.

I still remember when he proposed. Yes, we were young. Only twenty! But our hearts knew what our hearts wanted. I knew no one had ever made me happier, and I didn’t think I’d want anyone else to try. We had some things to work on, but I knew together we could do anything we put our minds to. I just knew I’d never felt so at peace and comfortable in the thoughts of forever as I did when I thought of us.

I still remember when we broke up. It was so unexpected, and I kept crying out to God, why?!! How could something that felt so right not be happening anymore. The world began to spin out of control again.

I still remember when I ran away. I ran away from a love that still existed in my heart, but did not exist anywhere else. I didn’t want a familiar if he wasn’t there. Thousands of miles, a string of new relationships, plenty of booze to numb my emotions, and efforts to become someone else.

I still remember when I married another man than him. Pushing into the back of my mind the certainty I had felt at nineteen, hiding journals that proclaimed my commitment to my college sweetheart, but never throwing them away. Ten years, a different life, an emptiness I always tried to fill. Sometimes I even felt like I had succeeded. Sometimes.

I still remember when I saw him again. A decade later, in the same place we had first met. It was like not a moment had passed. Me, with my failed marriage, and him with his own divorce under his belt. Two broken people, plenty of baggage to boot, yet we couldn’t help but smile at one another. It seems this would have been the end of hard and the beginning of happy endings, finally, but no. Good things take time and persistence.

I still remember two wounded people trying to make a go at it. Me calling him my ex-husband’s name as I walked drunkenly through the house at 3am. Him keeping secrets from me. Me going through his pockets. Him never looking me in the eye. Both of us addicts, just of different substances. Me afraid to trust, him unbelieving he could be loved despite it all.

I still remember when I decided to go all in. I remember when I decided I could really be loved despite all the men in my life who had rejected me, starting with an absent, biological father, and ending with a ex-husband who had said he didn’t love me.

I still remember looking up into his eyes on the altar and knowing I could never love someone as much as I did him. Never.

I still remember when we finally started telling each other the truth. The ugly truth. But we saw to the heart of the matter. His good heart still shined brighter than anything to me. I had never known a love so true, and he had never experienced one so unconditional.

I still remember when we began to change, together. How two people could find healing at the same time is still miraculous to me. It’s as if a combustion of sorts occurred, a cataclysmic shift in ourselves. Somehow we brought out the best in one another, and we just kept doing that. It didn’t happen all at once, but every day got better and better. It still does, in fact.

I still remember when I saw the man I love become the father of our children. I had never known I could love someone more than I already did yet it happened. I never knew each day could be more abundant than the one before, yet it happens.

I still remember when I realized our story isn’t done yet. We continue to grow, to cultivate each other. We continue to become more passionate for the other, more selfless, more overflowing with deep affection that cannot be rivaled. We began as teenagers with a reckless, unrefined love. We separated as confused twenty-somethings searching for self. We ran in wrong directions seeking fulfillment yet were brought back together despite time, distance, and change. We persevered through healing, confession, and rejection of this world. We saw the best in one another, and we worked from there. We still work from there.

Sometimes love really is a matter of the heart. You see the heart of another, you’re drawn to it, and you work with that. I’m not of some naive fantasy that says my marriage is perfect. It’s not. It’s hard work, in fact. But it’s also perfect for me. It’s my happily ever after. You just decide to cultivate the good, to forgive the bad, and to trust the story that brings it all together for good.

This morning I rushed about before I headed out the door to work, and as I stood yearningly before the coffee maker I glimpsed a small note. I had always left small love notes for my husband to find when he visited the coffee pot after me, and this particular sticky was a leftover from a previous work day. Although I had written it a week ago, in the midst of a trial, it didn’t hit me how true it was until today.

For over a month I had felt like our family was being hit hard with different problems. We had suffered through everything from lawsuits to palpitations, and fear of job loss to heart problems with our middle daughter. It had already been a stressful time, and I had watched it take a toil on my husband. When asked he would say he was fine, but I could tell by the look on his face that it weighed heavy on him. I think when you love someone so intimately you can just tell. I had been praying for him, but it wasn’t until the past week that I personally began to quake under the weight of the different stressors and unexpected trials we were enduring.

It seemed as if each day brought another bit of bad news, and after about day five I collapsed. Not physically, per se, but emotionally, mentally, and spiritually I fell flat on my face. And as much as I tried to push the worry away, I could not. It became more than I could bear, and after crying for the third time one day I reached out to my husband. I told him exactly how I was feeling, and he shared his mirrored emotions.

Later that night we talked for hours. We prayed together, prayed for one another, and let no word go unsaid between us. We talked about the future and the plans God had for us. We discussed the spiritual battlefield we faced as God moved us forward, and we shared proclamations of our faith, even though we had felt very weak as of late.

As I sat on the couch that night a strange feeling came over me, and I recognized it as peace, but it was accompanied by gratitude. I realized my husband had been waging war for our family the better part of a month. He had been absorbing God’s word and strength through scripture and the Holy Spirit, but his battle wounds had also been noticed by me. I loved him more than anything in this world, and I realized at that moment that I was grateful to be able to share with him the trials he was walking through for our family and future.

“I’m grateful to being going through this with you,” I had said.

He had nodded agreement. He got it. Neither one of us was excited about the struggles we had faced lately, but if we had to go through it then it was best done together. God had put us together for a reason. We felt like He had big plans for us and for His kingdom, but the trek from one plain of greatness to the next is often a hard walk. We were grateful to make the journey together with God leading the way.

The following morning I had worked, and for the first time in a week I woke up hopeful again for my day. I still felt the fuzzy edges of the hard trial I had transversed, but it was getting better. I was still weary, but not as weak. I was shaken, but not broken. And as I poured my coffee, before heading out the door, I had penned these words to my husband.

I’m grateful to walk through fire with you.

So when I saw the note again this morning it struck me how relevant and raw was my revelation. We had been through a Refiner’s Fire. Maybe, even, we weren’t done yet. But we had walked hand in hand, faith intact. Not only had it made us stronger individually, but also stronger as a couple. When I looked at his face, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners, and how his countenance shown with the light of Christ, I always loved him immensely. But something about walking through fire with him made me love him even more. It was like the heat had forged the commitment deeper into our very souls, and when I looked at him now I felt not just love, but honored to live life by his side.

Yesterday as I sat around waiting to have a tire patched I absently watched Family Fued in the customer area of the service station. I fed stale popcorn into my mouth and laughed at the game show on TV. The question from Steve Harvey was this.

Name someone a woman flirts with?

The answers being given were things like “coworker” or “neighbor,” and as I yelled my answer to the television I got blank stares from the other patrons of the business.

I excitedly offered my answer to the contestants.

“Your husband!”

But it didn’t make the survey.

I think sometimes when we think about flirting we consider that an act only available to those in the dating world, or in new, exciting relationships. But I believe that the art of playful flirtation is a great additive to a healthy marriage. It’s easy as you go through married life to become so comfortable with your partner that you don’t try to woo them anymore, and the art of seduction becomes unheard of. We become so used to an easy relationship that we don’t work for it anymore. We forget that our marriages are like gardens that require tending, they require watering, and they definitely require some fertilizer.

Flirting can be a great fertilizer for your marriage. Sending a sultry text message, maybe even a photo that makes you blush. It does wonders to tell your spouse they’re sexy. Even if you see them everyday, and you know that they know you find them attractive, it still does us all good to hear it more than once in a blue moon. Playfulness, seductiveness, and flirtatious conversation aren’t things just for when you’re trying to land a partner in life. They’re actions you want to continue to keep that partner in your life.

So why is it easy to flirt with that guy or gal at work, but feels awkward doing it to the person who’s held your hair back when you vomited or seen you give childbirth? Shouldn’t we feel more comfortable to romance the person who loves us through sickness and health? The devil strives to destroy marriages, and he tells us we can’t have an exciting marriage, hot sex life, or even romance in our marriage, but that’s a lie. You can actually have the best “sexting” session ever with your soulmate. You can seduce the father of your children. And you can feel like the hottest woman on earth at the compliment of your one true love.

So I say we break the stereotypes that equate flirting with affairs! Flirting is for marriage. Your homework is to text your spouse right now and set up a sexy rendezvous. The great thing about marriage is that it doesn’t have to be steamy and sexy. In fact, if you have young kids, most times it’s not. There’s a comfort and peace in being loved just as you are, in good times and bad times, no matter what. Any post partum mom would know exactly what I mean! But just because you experience unconditional love in your marriage doesn’t mean that you can’t also experience excitement and romance like the kind you read about. You truly can have the best of both worlds.

I walked around the house picking up stray toys, and I tried to busy my mind with mundane tasks. I started a load of laundry, and I loaded the dishwasher absently. I answered a whole bunch of “hey, moms,” and I paid particular attention to the many, “watch this” exclamations. My eyes kept falling to the tender, tiny frame of my middle child, and I pushed away the harsh thoughts that reminded me how frail her human body could be when stacked up against a hard, cruel world.

Ting.

My cell phone chimed from the recesses of my back pocket, and while I felt the vibration of its alert tone against my skin I also felt this shiver of joy and peace rest upon me like a warm blanket. After all, I knew.

I knew it was him. Before I even plucked the phone from my pants I knew. My heart just knew, and it knew because it knew him. But more importantly he knew me. No facades there, for sure.

Just a half hour prior I had held an emotionless face as I updated my spouse on what the pediatrician had said. I didn’t want him to be worried, but I guess I also didn’t want to show the truth that I was. Because if I let that cat of worry out of the bag, what were the chances of getting it back in there again?

Instead I detailed the story very matter of fact, as if reading a script, and certainly not as if I was talking about the potential heart problem of my own four year old.

“So we’ll get an echocardiogram,” I explained. “And then we’ll know from there.”

My husband had nodded, eyes downcast, simply answering, “ok.”

I gave him a perfunctory peck on the lips, a quick hug while holding a baby on my hip, and a see you later tonight as we walked out the door of his work.

I had not acted worried, I had not shown my concern, but my inaction might as well have been an open book to this man that I adored. When I looked at my phone I couldn’t help but smile, seeing in text the words that I had known would be there.

I don’t want you to be worried, she is going to be ok. God knew about this before she was born and He has a purpose for her life. He has never not come to our rescue 😊 God is good and everything He has made and does is Good. I love you baby 😘 I’ll see you tonight

I had answered back “thank you,” and some other things too, but I didn’t tell him until later that night how much it meant to me.

In the kitchen I informed him, “I knew earlier when my phone dinged that it was a text message from you.”

“Oh yeah,” he inquired?

“Yes,” I said. “I knew you realized I was worried even though I tried to act like I wasn’t. And then I knew you’d want to try and reassure me.”

“Yep,” he laughed.

Then I added sincerely, “I’m glad you’re that person for me.”

And I was. I was glad he was the person God had given me who could see to the depths of me. I was glad he knew when I needed encouragement, when I needed support, or even when I needed silence. He was the one who heard the words I didn’t say, and knew when no words were required. He was the one who tried to lift my spirits when I was sad, but simply loved me when they weren’t ready for being lifted quite yet.

He was the one who I could laugh with, but also cry. And he was the one I could keep going with when everyone else wanted to quit on me. He was the one who knew my past, loved me through the present, and dreamed of the future with me. He could guess my thoughts by the look on my face, or figure out my mood by my tone. He was the one who knew when to speak, when to remain silent, but always how to love me through whatever situation life brought forth. He was my partner in an often harsh life, who celebrated the victories at my side, but also held me in times of mourning. He was my best friend, and even my teacher in so many ways. He was the strong leader than our family required, but also the soft, sensitive spirit our hearts desired.

Yesterday morning I woke to the sounds of my husband making coffee, and I gazed groggily at my phone to see the time. I thought I recalled something about him having to leave for work earlier than usual, so I pulled myself from bed too. Coffee did sound nice.

As I imagined he would be my husband buzzed around hurriedly getting ready for work. I got a quick kiss of course, but otherwise there was little time available for conversation. He seemed distracted and intent to leave on time.

He didn’t even tell me he loved me.

I had collected my coffee and the children were starting to stir when suddenly I heard my husband call out from the kitchen, “why is the floor wet in here?”

I got up quickly and met him staring peculiarly at the puddle coming from the sink area. Both huge sink basins were full of dishes I’ll admit, and dirty water reached almost the lip of each one. I watched with a grimace as my husband went to let the drain out, and that’s when he said, “there’s no stopper. They’re both clogged up.”

Then it hit me, and sheepishly I uttered, “it’s my fault.”

In the almost thirty years I had been cooking ground beef I had never poured grease down my sink without a hot water chaser, but the prior night I had. I had been frazzled, in a hurry, per usual, to get supper made, and I could easily recall me dumping a pan full of grease with the ultimate intention of taking care of it later. All I had done, though, was clog up my sink, and I knew it was hardened grease just like a clogged artery that prevented the flow of the tap.

The sinks being full of cold, dirty water didn’t help the solution of the situation, but straight away my husband began to fix the problem. With a little initiative, time, a bucket, and a hair dryer we both watched proudly as the water began to quickly spiral down the drain. But the thing was, time wasn’t something he really had to spare that morning.

He would be late, but he didn’t say anything about it. I kissed him for giving me my sink back, and he just smiled sweetly. He had been held up by me not thinking, yet it didn’t seem to bother him at all. He just headed quickly out the door.

I had told him I loved him, and he had said it back, but that wasn’t the thing that made me smile as I stood in his absence beside a dirty sink. The thing was, he didn’t just tell me that he loved me. He showed me.

His actions spoke just as loud, and even louder than his words. Although being late for work to help his dear wife with the plumbing was huge, it wasn’t just a clogged up sink. It was everything. The way he helped with the children at night after he had worked all day, or the way he listened when I rambled about topics I knew weren’t as important to him as they were to me.

When I was down and out he picked up on it immediately. He knew when to make me laugh, when to hug me tight, and when to simply just nod agreeably as I ranted.

He listened, he helped me, and he spoke my love language just perfectly. It just so happens that most of the time our love language involved never uttering a thing, but simply showing one another we cared.

My husband didn’t tell me he loved me. He told me, and then more importantly he backed up his words.

Things have changed since we first met twenty years ago. Your hair has gone a definite shade of gray, and my midsection has become more fluffy after three children born. You don’t spend your evenings serenading me on the guitar, and I’m not picking you up a new Hallmark card every other day to prove how much I care.

There’s just no time.

We both have acquired wrinkles in places we probably didn’t expect and sagging skin in areas we wish it did not. The newness of our young love is not the same as it once was.

We don’t talk on the phone for hours, staying up all night long to hear the other one’s voice.

Who has the energy for that?!

I no longer jot down things about you in my diary, and I’m certain you stopped writing songs about me long ago.

We’ve gotten older. We’ve gotten more comfortable. Our relationship has become like a favorite, worn sweater that you can’t part with. But…

But somehow, someway, you still do it to me.

When I look up at you crossing the room, whether hurrying to work or tending to the children, my breath still catches at the sight of you. I still find you to be the most attractive man I’ve ever seen, and I desire you in those moments.

When you come home, and we have been apart, the brush of your lips against mine still feels like the best thing in the whole wide world.

When we embrace and your body presses against me, I still feel electric sparks that start in my toes and work their way to my fingertips.

You still give me butterflies.

You still have a way of making me feel beautiful. When you compliment my hair, when I see you looking at me, when your eyes linger and your kiss lingers even longer, I feel lovely. I feel special. I feel wanted.

You still have a way of making me feel safe. When I am in your arms I lack nothing, and with your support I know I can do it all. Together nothing is impossible, and I know you have my back.

You still make me feel comfortable and confident in our relationship. Despite the fact that I know your secrets, your failures, and your weaknesses, I still trust you more than anyone on this planet. I know your love for me is true, and I never question your faithfulness.

You still do it to me.

No matter the time that has passed or the changes life has brought our way, you still do it to me. You still make me feel like I’m supremely loved.

No matter the mistakes made over the years or hard lessons we’ve learned, you still do it to me. You still make me feel certain that we are meant to be.

No matter what, no matter how the years may pass, or how they may treat us, you still do it to me. And I wouldn’t want it any other way.

I recently decided to watch the latest Nicholas Spark’s movie. My husband was at work, as usual, and it seemed like the perfect time since he didn’t like the sappy love stories anyway. He’s more of an action movie kinda guy.

As I settled into the film I was drawn into the young lovers’ tale. I sat on the edge of my seat wondering if she’d give the tall, dark stranger a chance already, and my heart pitter-patted at their first kiss!

It was so romantic! The excitement was evident when they fell into their first embrace, and as I watched with electric anticipation for the duo, I realized my marriage was not like this scene at all.

For one, the heroine had a taunt, stretch mark free tummy, but that was just for starters. The couple caressed in a steamy shower, and I just kept thinking how we’d never manage to escape from the kids long enough to shower together. Heck, I just wanted a shower for myself without interruption.

But more than anything it was the excitement. The electricity. The palpable vibe that existed between the two lovers on screen. Their desire for one another was crazy, and I whimsically wondered how the woman would manage to get the dishes and laundry done with so many sexual sparks flying around.

I watched the couple as their tempting trounce traveled from the hot bathroom to the even steamier bedroom, and I knew without a doubt that my relationship with my spouse was not like the one on my TV at all. Maybe once upon a time, but not now. Not at all.

As the love story continued on the screen I was surprised to see the physical portion of the romance finally cease. I guess everyone needs a break at some point, and I watched with interest as the storyline continued. And before long of course there was a fight. And after the fight, with lots of tearful words, the couple decided to call it quits. They parted ways, sad music played, and they tried to busy themselves at their respective jobs.

My relationship was definitely not like this. Not at all.

Yes, my husband and I argued. About that there was no doubt. We had major issues in life that tried to rock our happy little boat. We had bills, responsibilities at work, and of course the children. We had disagreements over the way to discipline the kids and even the best way to organize the living room. We had stress, sickness, and reality. But when the going got tough and tears came, we didn’t walk off in the other direction down a long, dark alley. When trouble reared its ugly head my husband didn’t utter, “I just can’t do this anymore, Brie.”

Our relationship isn’t like the movies at all. And thank God for that.

Our relationship wasn’t muddled with uncertainty over our affections. Instead it existed and persisted due to the strong foundation we had created. It was better than any romance movie because when faced with distractions like children and difficulties finding time alone, we got creative. When our circumstances tried to sap the spark out of our marriage we dug deep and made things exciting. And it was perfect.

When a relationship continues past the steamy first sex scenes and moves into a reliable partnership that’s when it gets good. You love someone when their morning breath reeks and their socks litter the floor. You love them when they’re in a bad mood, and when they have a day where they have nothing to give you in return. You have steamy sex scenes even when you don’t necessary feel sexy anymore.

The uncertainty is gone, and it’s replaced with trust and a deep knowledge that you can depend fully on the person beside you despite the problems that may arise.

So even though the shower scenes may not be as plentiful as when you first married, they’re actually more exciting when you finally make them happen. Because you love the person you’re with. Not a silly, romantic movie kind of love, but a real-life, I can count on this guy for anything kinda love.

As the credits rolled at the end of the movie I thought I realized why my husband enjoyed action films. In those types of movies the characters made things happen. They purposefully worked to achieve the results they desired. It sounded a lot like how we worked to make our relationship a happy, productive one.

They fought hard to take care of business, and let nothing stand in the way of what they desired in life. They were active in making things work. I liked that.

And then I realized it; maybe my relationship is like the movies after all.

Quiet. So quiet. That was the key, I was sure. So gently and quietly I placed my sleeping baby down for the night. Nice bath with lavender soap, fresh diaper, full belly, burped, rocked; the recipe for some rest. She was sound asleep, but within the time it took me to use the bathroom I heard her ensuing cry. It grew in a wailing crescendo.

I scooped her up, settled into the rocker, and texted my husband, “I’m stuck now. Goodnight.”

I got into a rhythm as I rocked back and forth, slowly adding along a pat that fell into place with the back and forth motion of the chair. I thought of my spouse, and I missed him.

I missed him. I missed time together. God, I missed time alone with him.

It wasn’t anything special I desired. I didn’t need a romantic dinner by candlelight, or even a lusty romp in the sheets (though that would be nice). I just needed him; I needed the time to speak more than a passing, “how was your day, dear.” I longed for substantial conversation, but more than that I simply desired to sit in his presence, enjoying the joy and peace that presided when we were in the same room together for more than five minutes.

Within moments of sending my text he replied. He replied back with much encouragement, a little bit of humor, and special sentiments of his love for me. I realized in that moment, as I read his affectionate words, that we would be ok.

That’s what love can do.

Love can keep a couple close even when distance keeps them apart.

Love can hold a relationship firm even when circumstances are shaky.

Love can make you laugh when things are completely unlaughable, and it can bring a smile when you just wanna cry.

Love can withstand tumultuous upheaval, and serve like a constant buoy in uncertain seas of change.

Love can persevere through pounding storms, and feel like a welcome, warm blanket when the rain finally ceases.

Love can serve as a bridge, connecting hearts when passing situations of life try to serve as a divide.

Love can act as a strong foundation when hard knocks come pounding at your door.

Love remains constant when circumstances change, and it serves as an anchor in all seasons of life.

Real love. That’s what it does. And in that moment, that moment where I missed time apart with my spouse, I knew we were good. Things would settle out eventually, and our lives would return once again to the way they were.

But I also knew that it would be different. We would be stronger. Because that’s what love can do. It takes difficulties and uses them to refine relationships.

And until things did return to a new normal, our feelings would not falter. They would remain constant.

Meet Brie

Brie is a thirty-something (sliding ever closer to forty-something) wife and mother. When she's not loving on her hubby, bouncing a happy toddler on her hip, chasing her preschooler, or teaching her six year old at the kitchen table, she enjoys cooking, reading, and writing down her thoughts to share with others. But honestly she loves nothing more than watching a great movie, or a hot bath, alone if the children allow. Which never happens.Read More…

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